


The Trent Affair

by Shuriken7



Series: The North and the South [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-15
Updated: 2011-10-15
Packaged: 2018-02-20 08:40:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2422307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shuriken7/pseuds/Shuriken7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>America has slighted England's honor by removing Confederate diplomats from a British ship, and England finds he needs to know the state of the young nation across the sea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Trent Affair

England had been hearing about America's troubles for months, he had been keeping a close eye on the situation. It was not only for the political and trade reasons, although trade with him was becoming more and more shaky as the disputes between the states grew more and more volatile. They were reasons he could not even admit to himself. He listened to news of the Northern states doing poorly in battle with the South, and he wondered what that meant for the young nation. He had inquired with Canada when he sent more troops to defend the border, but Canada claimed to have not seen his brother ever since shots had been fired at Ft. Sumter. This worried England, he knew that a nation at war with itself was never in a right state of mind.

However, right now the only emotion he felt towards the younger nation was intense irritation and annoyance. One of America's ships had intercepted one of his mail transports and removed two men from the ship before letting it continue to Great Britain. He crumpled the newspaper in his hand. They had just fought a war over this matter, freedom of the seas, less than fifty years ago. Was the young idiot's memory really so short?

"Do not be too rash, my country." England looked over at Prince Albert, who was extremely ill. He always came to visit the husband of his Queen, since the man had done many things for him during his time. England had the feeling this may be the last time he saw the man, "Do not let Lord Palmerston sway your opinion too much, the man seems dead set on a fight with America. Many of them are, these letters are full of words seeking to pick a fight. Another fight will do us no good."

England nodded, although the anger he felt was still brewing. America had slighted his honor, he needed to have a word with him, "I am going to see him. See what is going through his head."

"That is probably for the best. I know you have been worried about him." The man gave England a kind, yet knowing smile. England flushed a little, but then smiled at the man. He bade his farewell and made preparations to go across the Atlantic, to find out what was happening with the young nation across the sea.

~*~

The voyage had not taken long to arrange, as he traveled back with some ambassadors who were carrying the ultimatum for the United States government. He fumed patiently in his cabin for much of the time he was not assisting with the sailing. He pondered exactly what he would say to America when he saw him. He frowned at the flowery note he had received before boarding expressing France's support should it come to war with the United States. He truly hoped it would not come to that, he was getting tired of trying to root the brat out. On his own lands America always proved difficult to fight.

When he disembarked after the long voyage he expected to see America there, as a formality if nothing else. The young nation was nowhere to be seen at the docks. He was also not there in the meeting between the delegates as they discussed the issue of freedom of the seas. None of the diplomats would budge. The Americans asserted their right to take the Confederates off the ship, due to their non-recognition of the southern states separation and the British still felt as if the Americans had dishonored their flag by not respecting the neutrality of the Union Jack.

England impatiently tapped his hand against the desk. He wanted this meeting to be over so he could have this out with America face to face, all nations faced Civil Wars at one time or another, America had to realize the world didn't stop turning just because he was having problems. After what seemed like ages the negotiators decided to continue their discussion the next day and England escaped into the hallway.

"Excuse me, sir," he said, stopping an aide, "May I enquire into the whereabouts of the United States of America?"

The man looked suspiciously at him, "And you are?"

England narrowed his gaze, "I am the British Empire and you will tell me where he is."

"I'm afraid I'm not authorized to give you that information." The diplomat seemed adamant about that fact. England tried to stare him down, but the man would not budge. England gave him a disdainful look as he retired to his rooms. He returned to his rooms with the intention of penning a letter directly to him, but he kept finding his hand paused, unsure of where to start. Every time he put his pen to paper, he couldn't find words, the ink would just drib off the nib leaving ink blots across the page.

The next day America was present at the meeting, although England was sure 'present' was a relative term. His body was there, but his mind did not seem to be. He looked as though someone else had dragged him there and propped him up in the chair. His eyes didn't focus on anything in particular and he seemed to be only capable of breathing in and out, he didn’t comment once. A bead of sweat formed on the young nation’s forehead and dripped down his face although the room wasn't particularly warm. England couldn't look at him. The state America was in struck a chord in him, a chord that did not sit well with him at all. He felt that he shouldn't be feeling anything. America was just another nation he told himself. It wasn't pity that he felt, like he would towards another nation. He swallowed the lump in his throat realizing the emotion. It was sorrow, sorrow that the other had to go through this. The emotion confused him, what was the other to him, really?

He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he did not even notice when the humans left the room, leaving them alone. "England, I wish you would just let it go. Those men were going to Europe to try and get support to tear me apart..." America said, his voice rough, tired, and not the voice that England was used to.

England shook his head, "America you know I can't do that. You could have sent word, we could have worked something out. You insulted me by ignoring my flag." He heard America's sarcastic laugh turn into a wracking cough. England stood up and came to the other side of the table, hovering awkwardly, wondering if it would be appropriate to comfort him.

"You are respecting my blockades, why can't you respect my right to take those men?"

"Yes, those blockades are quite the problem. And I don't appreciate them." America seemed to reply to himself, his face twisting into a sardonic smile. England backed up immediately. America's eyes had gone dark and he knew he was looking into someone else's face now.

The Confederacy stood up shakily, just as sickly as America, now the representation of the Union, was. They were trapped together, not able to break away, dragging each other down. America would not recognize him, and thus the other was trapped.

"I would have you recognize me." he said, looking England square in the eye. The older nation furrowed his eyebrows. 

"One does not just demand recognition. And I have no interest in choosing sides at this time." His leaders had been watching closely, trying to decide where the advantages lay in each. England had had no idea that the problems had gotten to the point of another potential personification.

"It's because of him isn't it? You still care about him." Confederacy accused, before England could respond, he continued, "He won't love you back, but I will. I have his memories, since we used to be the same person." The younger nation walked over to him and wrapped his arms around England's neck. England shoved him off.

"You obviously do not understand who I am. At least America does, even when he doesn't respect it." He pushed against the one who was wearing America's face when he tried to get close to him again.

"You obviously don't understand my tenacity. I have shed this one's blood more than once."

"And I wager he has shed yours as well."

"Indeed he has, especially the last time our people me on the battlefield. I have something he does not have though. I have more will and more passion than he does. Like when he freed himself from you, I will free myself from him."

England's heart froze in his chest and Confederacy took the moment of weakness.

"I would love you like he did not." he said as he pressed a soft kiss to England's mouth. England didn't move, the memories coming at him. He had not been expecting the jab and it had caught him off guard. America knew better than to use that during an argument. Apparently, appearance was the one of the few things that the two of them shared. He closed his eyes and let himself get lost in the sensation of the affection, it felt genuine. He was tempted to lose himself in it. "I will love you." came the whispered words in his ear.

"No!" He pushed him away, hard, knocking the ill nation onto the ground. "You are unwell."

"I will be separate. One day North will not be keeping me so weak." Confederacy said, watching as England made his way out of the room.

"That is not so certain," he retorted from the hallway, as he stormed off towards his quarters. He slumped against the door as he entered it. His heart was pounding, his breathing ragged. Seeing America like that, had shaken him. Seeing the new nation he may have to deal with, frightened him. He took deep breaths, trying to slow his heart and think about it logically. He was the British Empire for goodness sakes, the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, and a country he cared about more than he would admit was suffering. He closed his eyes, willing the tears he was feeling to stay behind his eyelids. It was too strange too new, too unexpected. His body was screaming at him to walk back into the other room, to face the young nation that meant so much to him. However, he did not want to have to face America's doppelganger.

He was not entirely sure how long he sat there against the solid door frame, but the light had gone down in the sky and it was now night. It was now too late to be making any social calls, regardless of how well he knew the one he sought to visit. He lit a candle and began changing into his night shirt. The routine calming him, he crawled into bed and tried to rest as he read over some of the documents from the day.

He jumped slightly when he heard a knock on the door, not entirely expecting it. It took him a moment to realize that it was most likely just one of his aids coming to inform him off a change. He picked up the candle from his bedside table and padded over to the door. He gasped when he opened it, there on the other side was America. 

The boy looked even more ragged than he had before. His hair was sticking to his forehead and his eyes looked feverish. He leaned heavily on the door frame. "I need to speak with you."

"Perhaps now is not the appropriate time..."

"Damn the appropriate time!" he said, voice suddenly raising in timber, as he slammed a hand on the doorframe and forced himself into the room. "We are speaking whether you like it or not. I haven't been your colony to chide for more than 100 years now." He slumped into the lone armchair in the room, leaving no place for England to sit except the desk chair or the bed. He sat down against the cold, wooden chair, turning it around so that he could face the other.

"I am listening then."

America suddenly looked unsure, as though he had been surprised by his own outburst and was unsure how to proceed. "I know that Confederacy said some things to you."

England swallowed, and nodded.

"Do you believe him?" he asked, looking straight into England's eyes. Before England could even think to stop himself, he looked away. He heard America take a shaky breath. "Oh."

England looked up now, finding that America had looked away. The young nation looked sad and tired. The glasses were something that England had not really noticed in their first meeting and wondered if they were an attempt to look older, to seem as though he had more than 100 years on him, instead of less. America had acquired so much land in such a short period of time, it was no wonder he was looking lanky. England took in his whole appearance, including the thinness in his face from the war that was stretching his resources.

"I don't want to have to fight another war with you." America's voice sounded so young and so sad that England felt himself propelled out of his chair. He wrapped his arms around him, trying to sooth some of the sadness, just as he would of done if they were still family. America clung to him, all of the weight of everything he had been carrying causing him to slump against England.

"I don't want to have to fight another war with you either, but you know that I can't just let you have special treatment. Things have been different, ever since..." He couldn't bring himself to finish that sentence with how America had told him goodbye, the memory still unpleasantly painful even after almost 100 years. 

"I know that. Just for now, will you treat me special? Just us, not the United States of America and the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland. Just... us, please." America had pulled back to look up at him pleadingly. England considered refusing, he knew it would probably be best for both of them. Giving in would change things. It was then he realized he had been in too deep with America since they met. England complied gathering up the young man in his arms and held him as he used to, pretending just for a moment that nothing had ever changed between them. It wasn't about control or importance, it was about affection. He admitted it to himself, he still felt great affection towards the other, even if that meant screaming and yelling at him on a regular basis. America slept in his arms that night, curled up against him. England stroked his soft hair and whispered endearments to him when he knew America was asleep and could not hear his words. Somehow, the Confederacy did not intrude the entire night.

~*~

At long last the issue was resolved, and America released the Confederate diplomats. They stood awkwardly on that last morning as England prepared to return home. After that night, everything had gone back to business as usual. England was not sure what to say to him in this farewell, he scratched his cheek as he smiled awkwardly at the other. 

"Well, goodbye America." he finally said, turning to board the ship that would carry him home.

"I want you to promise me something." America said suddenly. England turned to look at him, pausing in his stride up the gangplank. It was America's turn to look awkward now, as he fidgeted slightly, looking anywhere but at the nation he was speaking to.

"And what is that?"

"If I die.. if Confederacy destroys me... if we both die... anyway, promise me that you'll remember me." He smiled weakly.

England tried to give him a reassuring smile, although he was still unsure about what would happen, unsure about all the things that could change. "I think no matter what, you've left your mark America, no one is going to forget you. Whether we like it or not." Although the idea of America ceasing to exist made him sick to his stomach.

America chuckled then, trying to lighten the situation, the laugh still a little weak before it shifted into a cough. "Sorry, I guess that was a little melancholy. Alrighty then, goodbye England." he said, holding a hand out to him for a closing shake. England hesitated. Although the words were said with mirth, America's words had a touch of finality to them. England's heart skipped a beat when he wondered if this would indeed be the last time he saw him.

He shook his hand somewhat woodenly. "Goodbye America." he replied, hating the seal those words put on their conversation. He turned away from him and his tired smile and began walking again. He paused and turned.

"America... I..." he paused, unsure about what exactly he was trying, wanting, to say.

"I know." America replied, and with that he was gone, disappearing into the crowd with one last wave. England wrote a letter inquiring about him several weeks later and he was only told that he had left for the battlefield. His heart sank, wondering if he would ever return. He kicked himself for not saying what he wanted to say.

However, quite a few words came America's way when England realized he had never apologized for disrespecting his colors.

**Author's Note:**

> Historical Notes:
> 
> *The Trent Affair was a diplomatic incident that occurred near the beginning of the Civil War that brought the United States of America and Great Britain close to war again.
> 
> *It was not the only issue that the two had during the American Civil War since the British ended up having to pay reparations for non-neutral acts such as selling warships to the Confederate States of America. 
> 
> *The United States of America never did apologize for the breach in diplomacy even though they did release the two Confederate diplomats who did go to Europe trying to gain support.


End file.
